Heterochromia
by MagnaVictoria
Summary: His soul was fractured, lonely, confused, lost. It wasn't whole. While the other broken soul kept it company for a while, made it feel whole for a while, that other soul is gone now. His soul needs its other half. And it's other half shall find it and change it and taint it... forever.


_**Title:** _Heterochromia  
**_Summary: _**His soul was fractured, lonely, confused, lost. It wasn't whole. While the other broken soul kept it company for a while, made it feel whole for a while, that other soul is gone now. His soul needs its other half. And it's other half shall find it and change it and taint it... forever.  
After the summer of third year, everyone is startled by the changes in one Harry Potter. He knows things; he's different. Cold and ruthless, he's nothing like the Gryffindor he was last year. People are starting to fear him going dark, these differences are so abnormal. But the creepiest thing of all, his eyes have changed. They're a heterochromic green-silver.  
_**Pairing(s):**_ Voldemort/Harry, Ron/Hermione  
_**Genre(s): **_Romance, Adventure  
_**Warnings: **_Manipulative!Dumbledore, Time Travel, Dark!Harry, OoC!Harry, Powerful!Harry, Independent!Harry, SLASH, Pre-Slash, het, Language, Torture, Death  
**Rating:** 3,369

* * *

_**Prologue: Joining**_

It was a soul.

A kind, compassionate soul, at that, but it was not a complete soul.

It was fractured, all malicious intent long gone.

Oh, it could still feel hate, annoyance, sadness, resignation and all, but it was so bright, so pure that it was sickening. Thoughts of revenge seldom came and the brilliance of its mind was dimmed.

It was lonely and bonds were easily formed.

It hoped, for it was forever naïve.

But that was soon to change.

It's other, more dominant, more tainted half was still connected to it, but it wasn't next to it. So it felt lonely, empty and yearned for love. It called to its other half and its other half would soon answer that call…

_.:*Dream*:._

**August 20****th**** 2003**

There was something wrong with this story.

Confusion was evident in her face as she scowled at the book on her lap.

She couldn't exactly pinpoint _what _was wrong with the events of the book but something just screamed _wrong _when she read it. It was in interesting story and one she wouldn't usually have read. When she first saw it and read the blurb, the first thing on her mind was that this book was for children. A book for children. A child's book. It was a perfect symphony of good and evil, black and white.

However, she felt a pull towards it when she saw it. It just… called to her. And that was why, on her birthday a few weeks ago, she asked for this as a birthday present.

Her scowl deepened as her eyes traced the letters on the cover: '_Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone'._

It wasn't as… childish as she would have thought it was at first. In fact, it was now her favourite fiction book, not that she read many, mind. Plus, the main character shared her birthday. She had already read the book five or six times and could probably recite it word for word. She _was _a genius, after all. Only six years old and able to understand things she shouldn't be able to. She had an eidetic memory, too, and was very proud of it all.

A sigh left her lips and she forced her eyes away from the book, putting it back on the shelf between a rather large dictionary she had requested on her last birthday and _Roll of Thunder Hear My Cry_ that she had borrowed from the library.

Heterochromic eyes scanned the dull room lazily and long legs carried her to the window, slightly awkward in their gait.

Pale fingers caressed the cover of one of her more advanced academic books that was sitting innocently on her desk next to the window and she tore her eyes – one a vibrant green, the other an eerie, heterochromic combination of a ring silver surrounding a ring of green that clashed rather prettily – from the scene of laughing, playing children to look down at the book before cracking it open.

Now wasn't the time to ponder about the sheer _oddness _of the book. She knew that she wouldn't get an answer from wondering. However, she silently decided to borrow the next book in the series when she went to the library to return _Roll of Thunder Hear My Cry_.

_.:*Dream*:._

**July 31****st**** 1998**

Harry was, surprisingly, feeling very lonely. Why? He had absolutely no clue.

His friends had thrown him a big surprise party last night when he had came into the Great Hall for dinner. It was truly wonderful.

The walls had been decorated in red and gold and, surprisingly, green. There were lights hung up and everyone had been giving him birthday greetings. Their eyes were still haunted by the war, but they were recovering and Harry couldn't be more thankful for their effort to smile and laugh and give comfort. Even Malfoy and his parents were there; a little out of place and uncomfortable, but there all the same.

After the war, things had recovered quickly. Death Eaters were captured swiftly and given trials, much easier to round up now that their lord was gone. Harry had testified for the Malfoys and all three had been deemed innocent. Hogwarts was repaired and the previous seventh years were invited back to re-enter seventh year, thus why there were so many staying at Hogwarts.

Hogwarts was a peaceful place for families to recover and many of the students were staying over this summer. And that was why his birthday celebration was so huge. After the celebration, Harry had gone to bed with a feeling of elation and the knowledge that there would be presents to expect the next morning.

However, when he woke up and saw the presents, it was with a feel of emptiness. His elation from the night before had completely vanished, leaving him to stare at the giant pile with a sense of loss. Not even seeing that he had gotten a present from the _Malfoys_, all three of them, could make him feel differently.

And so it was with that sense of loss and cold he hadn't felt since that instant the horcrux was blasted from him that he opened his presents. He tried to think of a reason for _why _exactly he might be feeling this way. But none came to mind.

Trying to shrug it off, he decided to get to breakfast, hoping that seeing his friends would make him feel better.

_.:*Dream*:._

**December 21****st**** 2006**

The sound of a pencil scratching against paper filled the room as a beautiful picture unfurled before her mismatched eyes. A knock on the door yanked her back into reality and the pencil stilled abruptly in mid-stroke. She looked up from where she was seated in front of her desk and set the drawing and pencil down before turning to stare at the door.

"Come in," she called after a moment's hesitation.

The door swung open and a tall woman strode in, wearing a stern expression. A girl, slightly older than the one currently seated, with braids followed the woman inside, shooting the younger girl a superior look before faltering when her look was returned with a cold, piercing one.

"Helen Jean Parker," the woman called out her full name in a futile attempt of intimidation. The girl with heterochromia almost – _almost _– smiled. She always had the urge to smile when someone used her full name. She thought it amusing since her initials were the same as the main character of her favourite book. It held a _rightness _to it. The woman – the matron of this thrice-damned orphanage – twitched at the empty almost-smile Helen gave and bit her lip in a sign of unease when Helen swept a stray lock of messy, yet very endearing, ebony hair behind her ear. Everyone here thought her odd, thought her unnatural and was therefore frightened. The woman composed herself. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Helen blinked slowly and allowed an innocent and confused expression to show on her face. "Whatever do you mean, Mrs. Bennett?" Her voice had an angelic quality to it, an almost surreal one. It was a tone that she often used to get what she wanted and it was a tone that was completely different from her usual, cold tone.

The matron flinched before drawing herself up into her full height, obviously trying – and failing, in Helen's opinion – to seem imposing. Helen raised an eyebrow. "Daisy tells me that you…" the matron began, only to be cut off.

"I don't give a damn," Helen hissed, irritation colouring her tone, "about what Daisy," she shot the girl a look through narrowed eyes, "tells you about me. Nor should you be inclined to believe everything everyone else says about just because I _don't fit in._ Now get out!"

The two other females scrambled out of the room without a glance backwards and Helen allowed herself a smirk. She got up to slam the door close, satisfied, before going back to her drawing.

It always amazed her: this uncanny ability to order people around, scare them, play with them. She was so much… like _Tom_. Somehow, that thought didn't sit right with her; she felt as if she should be like Harry, but she wasn't such a sentimental Gryffindor. Her eyes flickered to the set of six books – her favourite series – that sat on the shelves. The orphanage she lived in was, luckily, quite well funded and didn't have many children so she was able to get presents. She had been here ever since her parents died in a car crash (Helen snorted at the thought finding it amusing how similar it was to the lie Harry was told) and she had, somehow, miraculously survived. At first they thought she would die, being only a two year-old child and falling into a coma for two weeks.

Her pencil stopped its movement and she admired her drawing.

The giant basilisk curled around, seemingly asleep in her picture, but its eyes were open. And, for moment – this made Helen frown – she could've sworn the serpent king's eyes flashed.

They flashed a heterochromic silver-green.

_.:*Dream*:._

**December 10****th**** 2006**

Ronald Weasley stared down at the paper before looking up at the mess of black hair just visible from where he was sitting. His one year-old daughter, clever, sweet little Rose, had drawn a picture. At first, he had panicked when he came into the room and had found Rose playing with gel pens – they were sharp, dammit, and you do not let babies play with sharp things! – but, luckily, she had only been drawing. Harry had come to the rescue, picking up little baby Rose and playing with her, taking her attention away from the gel pens.

Ron frowned at the paper again. It wasn't much of a drawing as it was a clash of colours. Silver and green lines glared out from the white paper and Ron looked up at Harry again. Recently, Harry had been acting out of it. It was a subtle change at first, but now it was noticeable by most of them. Ginny had called his attentions to it. Harry was becoming oddly depressed recently and quiet and this paper brought back memories, memories that he had dismissed as unimportant before, but maybe they were important now…

_~Flashback~_

_**December 25**__**th**__** 1991**_

"_Harry?" The redhead sleepily blinked up at the moving shape behind the curtains. He had been awoken by light and the sound of rustling. The moving shape paused abruptly. Ron rubbed his eyes and sat up, opening the curtains around his bed. He blinked at the motionless and unresponsive form of his best friend._

_Harry sat on the edge of his bed, looking down at a box wrapped in blue wrapping paper. His lips were slightly parted and his eyes were slightly wide, looking at the gift with curiosity and some wonder barely hidden in his eyes._

"_Harry?" Ron called again when he realized his friend had ignored him. Harry startled a little and turned to look at Ron, emotions hidden once more as the candle light flickered and flared._

_This time, Harry responded, if somewhat hesitantly. "Ron?" he questioned eyes narrowing._

_It was then that Ron noticed something, two things, actually. One: Harry wasn't wearing his glasses, yet he seemed to be able to see perfectly fine. Two: There was a thin, barely noticeable, ring of silver around the green of his right eye._

_Ron blinked, frowning and rubbing his eyes. The colouring did not go back to normal. "Uh… Harry… your eye… it's… a weird colour…"_

_His best mate blinked before adopting an innocent and slightly confused look, smiling reassuringly. "Mate, you'd better get some more sleep if you're hallucinating like that. Why would my eye suddenly change colour? Get some sleep, Ron, we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow. It is, after all, Christmas." But even as he said this, Harry tilted his head so that the shadows covered his right eye, hiding it from view. His voice was flowing, different, convincing and it made Ron drowsy._

"_Yeah… I guess… Probably just excited 'bout Christmas I guess. Nothing wrong…" And, before he knew it, Ron was asleep._

_The next day, Harry acted as if nothing was out of the ordinary and as if they hadn't had that odd midnight conversation, so Ron pinned it as a weird dream._

_**September 2**__**nd**__** 1997**_

_Pain. Ron was in pain. He still hadn't really recovered from the splinching and he couldn't sleep. He blinked open his eyes and let out a silent groan into the darkness of the tent. He felt _horrible. _He rolled onto his side and then saw… light. Faint light, but light all the same. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision._

_When he could see properly, he squinted at the small, dark green flame that hung, suspended, in midair. Then movement caught his eye and his gaze landed on Harry. His friend was sitting up and looking at his hands. As he moved, Ron realized that Harry was studying the locket intensely. _

_Ron suppressed a shiver. He had never seen that expression on his friend's face before. It was a dark look, almost possessive, but awed and childish at the same time. A slight smile curved Harry's lips and his eyes… His eyes were hooded, some sort of fire burning in their depths, a flash of silver visible. They were hungry and shone with power. Suddenly, those eyes flickered over to him and Ron caught the emptiness within them before his mind was suddenly swamped by drowsiness._

_The next time he woke up, they were rushing off to a new destination and the incident slipped his mind._

_~End flashback~_

Ron was pretty sure there were other incidents such as that, but he just couldn't remember. The current Harry sort of reminded him of those incidents, but he didn't really understand why.

He gave his head a shake. It didn't really matter. He just hoped Harry got better soon.

_.:*Dream*:._

**Spetember 3****rd**** 2009**

Helen glanced around the room, arms folded, leaning against a wall. She was, at the moment, extremely bored and irritated. Of course, those emotions were hidden under layers and layers of masks so that all she excluded was stubbornly hidden anticipation and childish intrigue. People kept glancing at her and whispering and giggling about how cute she was. She just pretended to be oblivious to all the stares.

The room was big. It was an auditorium, really. There was a stage and a screen at the front and rows and rows of chairs sat facing it. The students walked around and chatted to one another, making friends or greeting acquaintances.

It was what could count as Helen's first day at university. Well, she _was _a prodigy. She just hoped this opening ceremony thing went fast. She couldn't wait to get away from these _people_.

Luckily, she brought something to entertain herself. Opening her bag, she brought out her sketchbook that was filled with half-completed works of art and flipped it open to her portrait of Voldemort and carried on sketching it, her eyes locked with red pupils.

Not for the first time, she couldn't help but feel her drawings were so… alive, even the unfinished ones.

**February 29****th**** 2013**

"Hermione?"

"Yes, Ron?"

"Have you seen Harry recently?"

The brown haired witch paused in her work of signing papers, looking up at her husband, frowning slightly. Slowly, she put her quill down and shuffled her papers into an orderly mess before getting up and joining Ron on the couch. Ron looked round at her, tearing his gaze from the muggle TV and watched as she slowly shook her head. "No, Ron, I haven't." She bit her lip, a worried look on her face as she faced the wizard. "Ron, I'm worried about Harry. He's… been really depressed recently… and locked himself in the Grimmauld Place library, from what I've heard from Ginny."

Ron blanched, a look of shock overtaking his face. "But-but there are _dark _books in there! What's he thinking, being in a place like that!" he objected, slight panic in his voice.

Hermione couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Ron, just because it's dark doesn't mean that it's evil. Stop being such a prejudice prat," she admonished and her husband immediately looked sheepish, "But, there are quite a few dangerous things in there…"

"Uncle Ron! Aunt Hermione! Come, quick!" a sudden, high-pitched voice called. The couple stood up at once, grabbing their wands and running to the fireplace where Albus Severus Potter's head could be seen, floating. "Dad's gone bonkers!" he shouted before disappearing.

Ron and Hermione exchanged a startled look before grabbing the floo powder and flooing to 12 Grimmauld Place. As soon as they got out, they heard Ginny's hysterical voice. "Harry! Stop! Your hurting yourself! No!" The two quickly ran into the entrance hall where they found Harry, clothes rumpled and a deranged look on his face, staggering up from the ground. He barely spared them a glance as he pushed past them and ran to the floo.

Momentarily stunned, the two ran after him, just seeing him disappear in a burst of green flames, the sound of 'The Ministry of Magic!' ringing in the sudden deafening silence. The sound of crying was heard and the two snapped out of it. "Hermione, you stay here, I'm going after Harry," Ron said, looking into his wife's eyes. Hermione quickly nodded, her eyes shining with unshed tears of sadness and confusion, before going to the other room to make sure the kids and Ginny where okay.

The redhead took a deep breath before throwing some floo powder into the fireplace and quickly chased after his friend.

After stepping into the crowded room, he found a crowd of shocked onlookers, their gazes locked on a rumpled fleeing figure.

"Harry!" Ron called after his best mate, but he was ignored. Cursing, he ran after the Chosen One.

Their game of tag lasted for a while before Ron realized Harry was going to the Department of Mysteries. Bursting into the department, he found it empty and began searching for his friend. His efforts were futile and he was just about to give up when he heard a clattering noise.

Cautious due to the lack of Unspeakables, the redhead edged towards the chamber he heard the noise in and peeked inside. His breath caught.

It was the death chamber.

But there Harry was, in all his glory, standing in front of the veil. The raven-haired man was still and calm, gazing at the veil and Ron, not wanting to disturb the silence, quietly stepped forwards.

"Harry?"

The other man whipped around, startled despite Ron's effort and fell back… back. And Ron screamed as his best friend was lost, falling into the veil. The last thing he realized was that Harry's eyes were unnatural.

They were that odd heterochromic green-silver.

**February 29****th**** 2013 **

Helen tossed her phone onto the bed. She had been reading fan fiction just a moment before and was already getting bored of it. As much as the stories where interesting, they mainly talked about really odd things that Helen found a bit weird to read. In fact, she had started this fan fiction obsession a few months ago and read through many at an incredible pace.

Many of the things she read about she had already considered. The world had too many 'what if's and she didn't think these fan fictions interesting anymore. They were, after all, 'what if's. And, while interesting, 'what if's were useless.

Lying back down on her bed, she closed her eyes and decided to meditate, going deep within the recesses of her mind. Mentally snorting, she compared her meditation to Occulmency. Dang. What was with her and her obsession about that book?

A sudden, very odd feeling had her frowning.

There was something… there. She couldn't describe it, but it was _there_, within her mind, trying to get out… A sudden and overwhelming panic made her eyes snap open only to see…

Her lifeless body was lying there, a shocked expression on her face, her eyes wide.

Nondescript _brown _eyes.


End file.
